


In Brightest Day, In Blackest Night

by nishizono



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishizono/pseuds/nishizono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a little ridiculous, Dean thinks, the depths he's willing to sink to for Sam. And it's not even like Sam will appreciate it-- it's not like he even <i>knows</i> how epically much it sucks to be Dean right now-- but Dean will do it anyway because he 's a good brother, and he loves Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Brightest Day, In Blackest Night

**Author's Note:**

> The first of five (now belated) birthday fics for [](http://ships-harry.livejournal.com/profile)[**ships_harry**](http://ships-harry.livejournal.com/), who is hotter than Tom Hardy sucking on a lollipop and more hilarious than Misha Collins in drag.

It's a little ridiculous, Dean thinks, the depths he's willing to sink to for Sam. And it's not even like Sam will appreciate it-- it's not like he even _knows_ how epically much it sucks to be Dean right now-- but Dean will do it anyway because he 's a good brother, and he loves Sam.

But fuck. He _really_ hates comic book conventions.

“Dude, I can't believe they have one of these,” says Sam. He's staring at something in a glass case (it seems like _everything_ is in glass cases at these things, which makes Dean more than a little paranoid; he's a goddamn bull in a china shop at the best of times, which is kind of unfair since Sam is the one who got the Lumbering Giant gene).

But anyway, Sam is staring at something that looks like a cross between a stoplight and an oil-burning lantern, which is to say it's one of the stupidest, least-impressive things Dean has ever seen (which is saying something, because when you've zig-zagged across America as many times as he has, you wind up seeing a lot of really stupid, unimpressive shit). Judging by the expression on Sam's face, though, the thing could very well be some kind of lost Atlantian artifact or something. Who knows? Dean sure as fuck doesn't. Maybe Atlantians were really into stoplights or lanterns or whatever.

“I think it's an original,” whispers Sam, and Jesus, Dean has heard people sound less reverent in _church_.

“Cool,” says Dean, because he's a good brother.

Sam glares at him.

“Really cool?”

“This is an original Green Lantern lantern. This is _better_ than cool.”

Dean _wants_ to tell Sam to stop being such an embarrassing geek, but what he actually says is, “Oh. Awesome. Hey wait, Green Lantern? Dude, that movie was a piece of shit.”

“It was a comic book first, Dean.”

Dean is gearing up for a really awesome comeback about not impressing hot chicks with nerd trivia when someone bumps him from behind, and suddenly, the only thing between him and the case is one of Sam's freakishly giant arms across his chest. He pushes Sam away as soon as he regains his bearings and says, “Gross, dude. Don't touch me until you've washed the geek off.”

“Yeah, because a face full of glass would've been such a nice alternative. Not to mention we probably would've had to buy the lantern.”

“And wouldn't that have been a cryin' shame,” says Dean, and he's about to suggest they move on, but then he catches the look on Sam's face: he's staring at the stupid, useless lantern with a stupid, wistful expression, and Dean swears to fucking Christ that if Sam starts giving him puppy dog eyes, he's going to lose his shit.

“I don't even know how many of these are left in the world,” says Sam, and motherfucker, he's deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“Dude,” says Dean.

“I don't know if I'll ever see one again,” says Sam, reaching out to touch the glass, and seriously, what the fuck did Dean _do_ in a past life?

“It's probably not even for sale,” says Dean.

Sam heaves a dejected sigh. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

And Dean's not going to say it. He's not. They've already got enough shit, bot metaphorically and figuratively, and the last goddamn thing they need is a useless comic book lantern that'll just sit in the back of the Impala (Dean can see it now: Sam would probably give the fucking thing its own seatbelt) until someone nerdy enough to recognize it breaks in and steals it. It's worse than goddamn useless. It's a liability.

“Well,” says Sam, still staring at the lantern, “I guess we should probably go.”

“God damn it,” says Dean, half-pissed and half-resigned. “Go fucking find out if the goddamn thing is for sale.”

Sam's head jerks up like he's surprised, the fucker, like he hadn't been just standing there _waiting_ for Dean's resolve to break. “Really?”

“Dude, stop. Don't get all snuggly Hallmark gratitude on me. Just go find out if the fucking thing is for sale.”

And it really is the most useless piece of shit Dean has ever seen, and they'll probably fight over the thing when he wants to put useful shit like a cooler in the backseat and Sam won't move his lantern, but Sam is grinning at him like he just won the universe at a carnival, and that's okay, Dean thinks. He'll put up with it if it makes Sam happy.

“Go,” says Dean, “so we can buy this thing and get out of here.”

Sam turns, and he's halfway to the guy who's running the merch booth when he turns and looks back at Dean. And he's obviously trying to smirk, which means whatever he's about to say is going to be smartassed, but it's actually kind of cute when he says, “Hey Dean? You're the best big brother ever.”

“Fuck off, dude,” says Dean and turns away, but as soon as Sam can't see him, he smiles. He _is_ a pretty good brother, he figures, but it's only because he learned from Sam.


End file.
